How a Man is Formed
by Fawn Hickory
Summary: Frank can be downright nasty. But he's told some stories about his childhood that sheds a little light on how he came to be as he is.
1. Chapter 1

**The stories haven't been coming for a long time. Mommy brain! But Baby is 7 months old, and this story is finally cooperating.**

**I've been thinking about Frank. Everyone is so mean to him, and he is so unpleasant, but then you start to pay attention to some of the stories he tells from his childhood. I started thinking maybe there is a reason that he is the way he is. First chapter please read and review! :)**

A little boy sits at the dinner table, cautiously feeding himself his soup. He mustn't drip any on himself, if he did his mother would be angry. Mother mustn't get angry.

He finishes the meal with no drips and no accidents. With a small sigh of relief he heads off to his bedroom to read before bed.

The next morning, before he opens his eyes, he knows. _No,_ he thought hopelessly. _Not sick. _His throat was rough and scratchy, and his sinuses were aching. _Maybe I can fake it, ignore it and it'll go away._

He dresses and goes downstairs, where his mother has bacon and eggs ready for him and his older brother. He takes a mouthful and chews, but, as he swallows he can't hid the flinch as the bacon scratches the tender flesh in his throat.

"Mother, Frank is ill!" His brother sounds gleeful as he makes the announcement. _Of course he does_, Frank thinks sullenly. _Mother never gets angry at him._

Mother marches over to him. "Is this true?" She demands, hands on her hips. "Have you gone and caught something else?"

Trying to make himself smaller in his seat, torn between wanting to deny it and knowing that if he does, it will be that much worse for lying, he swallows again and says, "Yes, ma'am."

She shakes her head, then, without warning solidly backhands him across the head. "Weakling!" She turns and goes back to her seat. When she is seated, she barks, "Finish your breakfast!"

Frank picks up his fork and feeds himself the rest of his food, chewing the bacon well and carefully keeping himself from showing any pain. He would show her he was no weakling. The blow she had inflicted had brought tears to his eyes involuntarily, but as she back was turned he had brushed them away. His brother had not seen, he was too busy snorting behind his handkerchief over his brother's punishment.

_I'll show them, _Frank Burns thought again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter two. Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. :)**

It was a beautiful spring day, and Frank Burns had a spring in his step as he walked home from school. He'd gotten his report card back, and he had straight A's.

_Mother will be so pleased,_ he thought with a smile on his face. Perhaps she would even bake him a cake. That's what she had done when his brother had gotten an A on his chemistry test.

The thought of a cake made him walk a bit faster. It had been ages since he had a cake.

He rounded a corner and kept walking, not noticing his brother standing there with a group of his friends.

"Hey Ferret-Face!" his brother's voice rang out. "What's the rush? Gotta go home and show mommy the report card?"

The boys he was standing with laughed and as a group they moved closer.

"I have a lot of homework." Frank kept walking, ignoring the heat on his cheeks from the others hearing his brother's nickname for him.

"He has a lot of homework," the others taunted. They were closer now, those boys were bigger and had longer legs than ten year old Frank. Frank put a little more into his step, he was almost trotting. If he could make it to the end of this block, he'd be safe. They couldn't touch him in view of the Burns house. His brother may be the Golden Boy, but even he knew better than to beat up his little brother in full view of his mother.

He was nearly there when they caught up to him. He felt a hand grab the back of his cardigan and pull him back. He held tight to his books-his report card was in his math book, he had to keep it safe!-and tried to pull away, but they were stronger.

Someone slapped him, and then they were all hitting him, taunting him, trying to pull his books out of his hands. He had one arm up, trying to protect his face while he kept a grip on his book with the other.

"Leave me alone!" He shouted.

"Cry for mommy!" One of the boys said.

His book was wrenched away, and then Frank lost it. He was outnumbered and outweighed, but he was mad. He started kicking and punching, and from the yowl he heard, he knew he hurt one of them. Evidently they decided this Frank wasn't as fun to beat up, so they regrouped and ran away.

Wiping blood from his nose, Frank gathered up the scattered books, looking for his report card. It wasn't there.

_No, _he though, _where did it go?_ He looked around the immediate area but saw nothing. Then he noticed a piece of paper skittering along the ground about half a block back. He ran for it, but just as he was near catching it, the wind out shove it out of reach. He was four blocks in the wrong direction before he gave up.

Suddenly he was very tired. He hurt where their fists had hit him, and, he knew, there would be no cake.

He went back to where they had assaulted him, picked up his books and went home.

"Francis Marion Burns! You come in here this minute!" His mother ordered from her sewing room when she heard the door close.

He sighed. He had been hoping to get cleaned up before she saw him.

"Yes, Mother?" He came in the room and the first thing he saw was his brother sitting there, while he mother lovingly applied antiseptic to a cut above his eye.

"Did you beat up your brother?"

Frank blinked. She would never believe that he had attacked Frank. So he did what he had to do. "No, Mother, a group of boys jumped us on the way home from school."

Mrs. Burns put her eyebrows together. "Then why did he say that you did this?"

"I don't know, Mother." Frank looked at his brother, who was thinking about the story that Frank had concocted. Frank could see the gears turning in his brain. If he went along with Frank's story, he wouldn't have the fun of seeing his brother punished, but it might give him some valuable future leverage.

He arranged his features into a look of contrition. "I'm sorry, Mother, I just didn't want to tell you."

Mrs. Burns shook her and smiled at her eldest. "That's alright, son."

She turned back to Frank. "Well, where's your report card? Robert gave me his today."

Frank hung his head. "I'm sorry, Mother, but I lost it during the fight."

Her lips compressed. "A likely story."

"Really, Mother. I had straight A's too."

"Did you see him loose his report card?" She turned back to her other son and asked.

He shrugged.

"Well, Robert, since I saw a nice list of A's and B's on yours, you shall have a cake." Mrs. Burns said. "Frank, however, did not show me his, so unfortunately for him, no cake.

Frank swallowed. _No cake._ How had he seen that coming?


End file.
